it.”
Against my better judgment I said, “I’ll see what I can do.”
What else could I say?
* * * *
The day stretched ahead of me, long and empty. I had made a promise to Corinne, and I really had no idea how to fulfill it. I had made promises to myself, but the prospect of job-hunting filled me with terror. I’d rather face another demon.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I called Harry.
An hour later, Harry picked me up in a blue Mahaffey-Ringold van. I hoped it didn’t have a body in it. The big hearses are mostly for funerals. The van does the bulk of pickup and delivery.
He frowned when I climbed in. “Did you have to bring the dog?”
“I didn’t want to leave him alone all day.” I was afraid of further damage to my bathroom door or unabashed howling.
“You’ve gotten weird on me. Don’t you think it’s time you got another car?” He shifted gears.
“That might be hard.”
“Oh?” He stomped on the accelerator with such ferocity I had to close my eyes. If Harry on the freeway was a scary prospect, Harry dodging pedestrians and city traffic was truly a near-death experience.
I gave him the CliffsNotes version of losing my job. He made appropriate brotherly noises and then asked the dreaded question. “Is that why you wanted me to pick you up? You’re coming back to work for Mother and Walter?”
“No, absolutely not.” I was so horrified I made the mistake of opening my eyes. A large semi bore down on us at a terrifying speed. Harry wrenched the van back onto our side of the street just in time. The truck driver laid on his horn indignantly. Harry beeped back at him and careened around a corner.
I had one arm holding Billy in my lap and another gripping the armrest. Billy stood with his front paws on the dash, snorking happily.
“I need to talk some things over with Mother. Mother-daughter stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Drop you off and disappear. Don’t worry. I need to take Mrs. Hazelthorne to the crematorium anyway.” He jerked his chin toward the back of the van.
* * * *
Harry let me off at the side door and peeled out as though it was a dire emergency to deliver Mrs. Hazelthorne within the next thirty seconds. Good thing most of Harry’s passengers were already dead.
The bell tinkled as I went in the employee entrance. Mother was entertaining a “client” in her office.
“Oh hello, dear,” she said. “Mrs. Hazelthorne, this is my daughter, Portia.”
Mrs. Hazelthorne was plump, but in a shapely way, with gray hair fluffed about her head like a huge cotton ball. “Two of you? Dear me, this is my lucky day. So very nice to meet you, Portia.”
Mrs. Hazelthorne sat in a chair poring over the pages that Mother turned for her. She didn’t appear to have mastered the art of floating yet.
“Mrs. Hazelthorne is newly deceased,” Mother offered. “We’re finalizing her funeral plan before her husband arrives.”
“Definitely the pewter urn,” Mrs. Hazelthorne said. “The living room is very nautical, and pewter would fit right in with all the blue tones.”
“Now about the hymns,” Mother said.
“Let me see.” Mrs. Hazelthorne tapped her chin. “I always liked Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me , and Rescue the Perishing . Those would be nice, don’t you think?”
“Oh yes,” Mother said. “I’ve always been partial to Fanny Crosby. May I suggest Blessed Assurance ?”
“That sounds nice. What do you think?” Mrs. Hazelthorne looked brightly at me. “What a cute little doggy,” she exclaimed, spying Billy for the first time. The pug was sitting there with his head cocked and a bemused expression on his face.
Mother’s mouth hung open. “You did get a dog. I thought Harry was making it up.”
“I’ll explain later,” I said. The front doorbell tinkled.
Mother stood. “That will be Mr. Hazelthorne.”
“I’ll get him,” I offered. I unclipped Billy’s leash and he trotted at my heels. I hoped he didn’t think he was my dog now.
Against my better judgment I said, “I’ll see what I can do.”
What else could I say?
* * * *
The day stretched ahead of me, long and empty. I had made a promise to Corinne, and I really had no idea how to fulfill it. I had made promises to myself, but the prospect of job-hunting filled me with terror. I’d rather face another demon.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I called Harry.
An hour later, Harry picked me up in a blue Mahaffey-Ringold van. I hoped it didn’t have a body in it. The big hearses are mostly for funerals. The van does the bulk of pickup and delivery.
He frowned when I climbed in. “Did you have to bring the dog?”
“I didn’t want to leave him alone all day.” I was afraid of further damage to my bathroom door or unabashed howling.
“You’ve gotten weird on me. Don’t you think it’s time you got another car?” He shifted gears.
“That might be hard.”
“Oh?” He stomped on the accelerator with such ferocity I had to close my eyes. If Harry on the freeway was a scary prospect, Harry dodging pedestrians and city traffic was truly a near-death experience.
I gave him the CliffsNotes version of losing my job. He made appropriate brotherly noises and then asked the dreaded question. “Is that why you wanted me to pick you up? You’re coming back to work for Mother and Walter?”
“No, absolutely not.” I was so horrified I made the mistake of opening my eyes. A large semi bore down on us at a terrifying speed. Harry wrenched the van back onto our side of the street just in time. The truck driver laid on his horn indignantly. Harry beeped back at him and careened around a corner.
I had one arm holding Billy in my lap and another gripping the armrest. Billy stood with his front paws on the dash, snorking happily.
“I need to talk some things over with Mother. Mother-daughter stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Drop you off and disappear. Don’t worry. I need to take Mrs. Hazelthorne to the crematorium anyway.” He jerked his chin toward the back of the van.
* * * *
Harry let me off at the side door and peeled out as though it was a dire emergency to deliver Mrs. Hazelthorne within the next thirty seconds. Good thing most of Harry’s passengers were already dead.
The bell tinkled as I went in the employee entrance. Mother was entertaining a “client” in her office.
“Oh hello, dear,” she said. “Mrs. Hazelthorne, this is my daughter, Portia.”
Mrs. Hazelthorne was plump, but in a shapely way, with gray hair fluffed about her head like a huge cotton ball. “Two of you? Dear me, this is my lucky day. So very nice to meet you, Portia.”
Mrs. Hazelthorne sat in a chair poring over the pages that Mother turned for her. She didn’t appear to have mastered the art of floating yet.
“Mrs. Hazelthorne is newly deceased,” Mother offered. “We’re finalizing her funeral plan before her husband arrives.”
“Definitely the pewter urn,” Mrs. Hazelthorne said. “The living room is very nautical, and pewter would fit right in with all the blue tones.”
“Now about the hymns,” Mother said.
“Let me see.” Mrs. Hazelthorne tapped her chin. “I always liked Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me , and Rescue the Perishing . Those would be nice, don’t you think?”
“Oh yes,” Mother said. “I’ve always been partial to Fanny Crosby. May I suggest Blessed Assurance ?”
“That sounds nice. What do you think?” Mrs. Hazelthorne looked brightly at me. “What a cute little doggy,” she exclaimed, spying Billy for the first time. The pug was sitting there with his head cocked and a bemused expression on his face.
Mother’s mouth hung open. “You did get a dog. I thought Harry was making it up.”
“I’ll explain later,” I said. The front doorbell tinkled.
Mother stood. “That will be Mr. Hazelthorne.”
“I’ll get him,” I offered. I unclipped Billy’s leash and he trotted at my heels. I hoped he didn’t think he was my dog now.
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